


our house, my heart and nightmares (must be something else, must be something else)

by waterleveldropping



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Bisexuality, Coming Out, Domestic, F/M, Getting Together, Light-Hearted, Living Together, Platonic Female/Male Relationships, Trans Character, Transfeminine Jon, kinda of ?, platonic intimacy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-02
Updated: 2020-09-02
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:53:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26245222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/waterleveldropping/pseuds/waterleveldropping
Summary: “I’d say you make a prettier woman than I do,” Daisy says, offhandedly.Jon laughs, and then pretends he doesn’t think about the comment every day for the next week.---Jon and Daisy move in together after Daisy escapes the coffin. Bad movies are watched, takeout is ordered... gender identity is explored?
Relationships: Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist/Alice "Daisy" Tonner
Comments: 19
Kudos: 136





	our house, my heart and nightmares (must be something else, must be something else)

**Author's Note:**

> dont take this too seriously. i just wanted to play around w amab trans jon and theres never enough jondaisy. theyre both so bisexual i love them

They’re sat on the hardwood floor in Jon’s cramped new flat, halfway into sorting through Daisy’s belongings when they reach the taped-up cardboard box Basira has stuffed most of Daisy’s clothes into. 

It had been a few days since Jon had pulled her out of the coffin. As it turns out, being trapped ‘forever deep below creation’ didn’t exactly lend itself to landing in your landlord’s good graces. Most things in life didn’t, but the first thing Daisy had found out after returning to the surface was that she was out of a place to live. 

Her flat had been inhabited by a small family since late September: two young kids and a single father had moved in in her absence. Basira took it upon herself to pack all of Daisy’s life into neat cardboard boxes, the things that would fit at least, and shoved them in a storage locker somewhere downtown, trying not to think about the implications of not tossing it all. 

“I… I think I need a bit to process stuff,” Basira had said when the topic of where Daisy would be staying arose, a few hours after her and Jon had emerged from the Buried. “Sorry, Daisy, I’ll help you find somewhere, just…”

“I get it,” Daisy had replied. “It’s alright, Basira.”

“You could stay with me,” suggested Jon after a second of sitting in silence, quietly sipping lukewarm tea. 

“I dunno if that’d be a good idea,” Basira replied quickly. “Plus, isn’t yours a one bedroom? Wouldn’t work anyway, would it?” 

Daisy paused, contemplating. “Would it?” she turned to Jon.

Jon shrugged. “Your only other option is the cot down here.”

Before the day had ended, Daisy and Jon had bought a couch for Jon’s flat. 

“Hand me the boxcutter?” Daisy called over her shoulder as she held out her hand. Jon stepped back into the living room from the kitchen and placed it in her palm.

“What’s that one?” Jon asked, taking a break from organizing the small collection of plates and silverware they’d acquired or borrowed from whatever friends would still speak to them. He moved closer to where Daisy was sat on the floor, curious to see what this unmarked box would produce from its depths. 

“Rest of my clothes, I think,” she remarked.

“Oh.” 

The scent of laundry detergent wafted out upon pulling the tape apart, and Daisy was very suddenly confronted by the shadow of her old life. When she worried about things like what outfit she was going to wear that day, or which day of the week she did her wash. She had only barely readjusted to the concept of a week, let alone which part of it she’d do her wash on.

“Wow,” Daisy held up a rather delicate-looking cream blouse. “Did I really use to dress like this?” She continued to pull out formal wear; including some pressed dress pants, a cardigan, and a knee-length skirt.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in any of that,” Jon notes with a scoff. 

“Was mostly for work events I think. I’m sure there’s some stuff here I’ve barely worn once,” she replied, squinting at another skirt, this one more frumpy and obviously thrifted. “I used to want to dress feminine. I think I gave up after a while.”

“How come?”

“I guess it just stopped being necessary. Spent most days in my uniform, and if I wasn’t, I was wearing something that’d be easy to run in. Something I wasn’t afraid of getting dirty in case stuff got rough.”

“I see.” 

There has to be something in here she can wear comfortably. Daisy reaches her hand deep into the box, shoves a cocktail dress aside and thankfully, finds a pair of old sweatpants, some ripped jeans, and a few T-shirts, along with a couple pairs of socks. 

“Well. Guess I’ll have to stop by the charity shop soon. I wonder if that one in the East End is still open.”

“It is,” Jon helpfully supplies.

“Thanks,” she replies, and her voice suggests that she would have been happier just searching it up herself. “I dunno what to do with all of these though. Don’t think I’ll wear them again.”

“Why’s that?” 

“I’m finding it much easier to stick to loose-fitting clothes for right now.”

“Right.”

Daisy sighs and folds a skirt absentmindedly. “Still, seems a waste.” 

“Could always give them to me,” Jon remarks. It catches Daisy off guard, despite Jon forcing a laugh after the words leave his mouth. 

“Well. They’re not going anywhere anytime soon,” she says, and then lets Jon change the subject.

* * *

Jon comes home one night to find the flat starkly without the presence of Daisy. This is strange, because since taking up residence in his (their?) apartment, Daisy is scarcely away from his side, if she can help it. 

The lights stutter a bit before they fully flicker on when Jon hits the switch and sits to take his boots off in the hall. He’s wondering if Daisy informed him of something he just forgot about, when his eyes catch on the cardboard boxes still occupying their tiny foyer. Jon stares for a second. It’s true that he has been meaning to buy some warmer clothes for him and Basira’s upcoming journey up north, and before he can stop himself he’s sorting through Daisy’s old clothes. 

The voice in the back of his mind tells him there’s nothing in here that would even keep him remotely as warm as he needs to be in Scandinavia, but he still searches despite the ever-present knowledge. His hands fall on a long skirt, one of the ones Daisy had held up during her initial sort. It’s soft, rusty red with some ruffles at the end, and he can’t even properly picture Daisy in something so delicate, having seen what she’s capable of-- then feels a bit guilty for that thought. 

When he envisions the skirt on someone, he realizes with a start that it's himself he’s picturing. 

Jon blinks at the fabric in his hands. He brings it up to his waist to check the fit, but doesn’t exactly know why. He’s not going to try it on--though, if he did, it seems it would indeed fit; him and Daisy are rather close in size. 

Thankfully, his phone buzzes in his back pocket, causing him to place the skirt back where it came from. He shuts the box, leaving it as he found it as he answers the call from Daisy, letting her know that Chinese for dinner is more than fine with him. 

* * *

It isn’t until he returns to England from Norway that Jon even remembers the old box of clothes. He’s surprised to find that it isn’t in their foyer anymore, and decides to ask Daisy about its whereabouts, casually.

“It’s on the shelf above the closet,” she replies ,wondering why Jon is so concerned with a cardboard box of her old clothing. 

“Oh,” Jon says, and he almost sounds relieved. “Right, no problem. Let me know if you want my help taking it down to the uh, the charity shop.” 

Daisy stares after Jon when he leaves the room, and then goes back to the magazine she had been pretending to be interested in. 

* * *

Jon doesn’t know when he resolves to try the skirt on, but he does know that he nearly breaks his neck balancing on the kitchen chair to get the box down from where Daisy had placed it in their shared closet. 

Once he and the box (which, thankfully, is not very heavy) are safely on the ground in his bedroom, Jon digs out the skirt, notices it’s not on the top of the pile anymore, and figures maybe Daisy changed her mind about wanting something in the box after all.

The skirt goes slightly down past his knees when he stands and holds it up to himself. He still has his jeans on, so he kicks them off quickly, slightly embarrassed. While he knows women don’t usually wear ratty old jeans under skirts, it still feels too intimate to be trying on his friend and flatmate’s clothes over only his boxers. 

Daisy’s out right now, though, and Jon is stood in his bedroom, door closed. He steps into the skirt hurriedly, before he can change his mind. It fits, more or less, it’s a bit tight at the waist, but not alarmingly so. He supposes him and Daisy are quite close in size. Overall, it’s… quite comfortable, he discovers. 

Walking over to the full length mirror he’s got resting against the wall, Jon surveys his reflection. He’s very surprised to find how much he likes what stares back at him. It’s still a bit uncomfortable around his hips, and the colors clash horribly with the button-up he’s wearing, but that aside… it’s not at all ridiculous to see himself in a skirt. 

He doesn’t particularly know what to do with that knowledge-- now there’s a feeling he hasn’t experienced in a while, he notes with a scoff. 

Jon twirls slightly, despite feeling a bit silly, but very much enjoys the way the fabric spins around his ankles. He’d certainly have to wear something under it, maybe… leggings, or tights? Melanie frequently wears shorts over leggings, and he quite likes how they look. Maybe he could try something like that?

“Jon, I’m back!” 

Daisy’s voice is overlapped with the sound of their front door opening, and Jon’s mind goes blank with panic and embarrassment.

“Can I get some help with these?” she asks over the sound of plastic bags. 

“Yes, one second!” Jon calls back. He quickly steps out of the skirt, nearly tripping over his own feet in the process, and pulls his old jeans back on. Shoving the skirt back into its box and the box out sight, he steps out to help Daisy unpack groceries, shutting the door behind him. 

* * *

“Jon,” Daisy says a few days later, as they’re sat watching some pointless show on the couch.

“Yes?”

“Were you trying on my clothes?” she asks, without looking away from the television. 

“Oh,” Jon says, stupidly. “N-no, I just… took the box down to get some other stuff out of the closet.”

“Don’t lie to me. There’s nothing else on that shelf,” Daisy counters. There is no malice in her voice, and somehow that intimidates Jon even moreso. 

“I, uh,”

“I don’t really mind,” she says, and folds her legs to her chest, resting her head on her knees. She’s still not looking at Jon. “Just surprised, is all. Didn’t seem like anything in there was really your style.” 

“Oh, yeah, no it’s… not,” Jon lies. “I’m sorry for going through it without your permission.”

“I said I don’t mind,” Daisy repeats. They sit in silence for a few more minutes, the game show announcer’s fabricated voice the only thing filling the room. Neither of them are watching it. 

“You find anything in there you like?” Daisy says, suddenly. 

“What? Oh, no, I didn’t.” 

“What did I say about lying?” 

“I…” Jon pauses. “I tried on that long red skirt?” 

“Yeah? That’s a good one. Think I bought it for a ren faire or something like that, way back when.” 

Jon smiles. “I didn’t figure you were the type for that sort of thing.” 

“Yeah, it was kind of stupid. I’d never do it nowadays. But it was fun for a bit in uni,” she snorts, remembering her life before all this.

“Yeah,” Jon replies. 

They clean the takeout containers and leftovers off the coffee table in a comfortable silence. It’s already late, and they both have to go in to work tomorrow--as if not showing up is an option anymore-- but Jon says yes to Daisy’s suggestion of putting on a cheesy slasher flick, and when Daisy sits closer than usual to him and rests her head on his shoulder, he notices that the gesture is all he can pay attention to, and misses most of the beats of the movie.

* * *

Daisy’s getting weaker, Jon knows she’s not hunting. He tries to make sure both of them have three meals a day, but he’s aware that their hunger isn’t strictly reliant on the fullness of their stomachs anymore. She’s gotten more vulnerable recently as well, at least that’s what Jon assumes when Daisy slowly starts getting increasingly physical with him. 

He knows she doesn’t like being alone if she can help it. It used to be that she’d just want to be in the room with him when he did statements, but now she’ll lean up against him as they sit on the couch, rest her head against his shoulder longer than usual when they hug... a few weeks ago she even reached for his hand when they walked home from the pub together. Jon was so surprised, and pleasantly buzzed, and he let her do so without mentioning it. 

That’s just what they end up falling into: they don’t talk about it. Not necessarily in a bad way, they just don’t feel a need to. So, when they stumbled home after drinks one night and Daisy brought him over to the couch and kissed him, it just felt like a natural progression. It’s just been like this for a bit now. They’ve never gone farther than kissing, neither of them seem to really be willing to, but Jon can’t deny that what they have feels… nice. A spot of normalcy in his life; something that he can control. When he tells Daisy to stop, she does. When Daisy tells him she’s not feeling up to it, Jon drops it. 

Daisy’s stopped sleeping on Jon’s couch. One night, they say goodnight and Jon shuts the door to the bedroom, and wakes up an hour later to her in bed next to him, her arms around him. He still doesn’t say anything. This is just how their life is now, and they’re both fine with that. 

Daisy looks over the edge of their shared bed one morning, and her eyes fall on the box of clothes. They still haven’t donated it. They haven’t even talked about it since Daisy realized Jon had tried her skirt on. 

“Can I see you in it?” she asks without preamble. 

“What?” Jon turns to see her knelt beside the box, the same maroon skirt pulled out. “Oh. Sure?” 

Jon slides his pajama pants off-- it’s strange, most men Daisy has dated sleep in just their boxers, but Jon likes to keep a shirt and sweatpants on when he does. She knows it’s not a matter of modesty--they’ve taken showers together before--it just strikes her as different. She had decided a bit ago that she isn’t going to bring it up.

Jon steps into the skirt, still tight around his waist. He laughs a bit out of awkwardness when Daisy just stares, not saying anything. 

“Not really my style, I know,” Jon chuckles, sitting back down on the side of the bed. 

“No,” Daisy scoffs through a smile. “I think it suits you better than it did me.”

“What?” Jon says, genuinely surprised. “Really?” 

“Yeah,” Daisy says, still a bit in awe. She stands next to where Jon is sat, pushes his long hair over his shoulder. “I used to braid my hair when I wore stuff like this. Go for the whole ‘bohemian’ look, y’know.” 

“Yeah,” Jon says, distracted, as Daisy plays with his hair. “Probably look pretty ridiculous on me, though.” 

“Probably,” Daisy replies, and pulls Jon up to standing. “You know how to dance?”

“Uh, no, I,” Jon laughs, embarrassed as Daisy begins to sway them side to side. “Not… sober, at least.”

“Shame,” Daisy smiles, and brings Jon into a loose little dance. The skirt flows around Jon’s legs and he feels pleasantly light, along with a strange sense of freedom. Daisy brings Jon’s hand above both of them and Jon twirls, the fabric swirling with him. It’s uncoordinated, and stupid, and they’re going to get a noise compliant from stamping around above their neighbors, but Jon feels the happiest he has in a while when Daisy raises an eyebrow, smirks, and dips him gently. 

* * *

“I should have the blouse still,” Daisy says when Jon asks if she has any old pictures of herself from uni. He’s had a rather awful day at work, and something in him aches for when their lives weren’t all tangled up in this business. 

Daisy sets herself to looking through the box again as Jon flips through the small photo album Daisy had handed him. It contains a few pictures of her parents, a whole lot of pictures from her time on the force, a couple of her and Basira. Daisy has said that she doesn’t have much contact with her family, but Jon supposes they have that in common, at least. 

“Yeah, here it is,” Daisy calls, pulling out a button-up blouse. The sleeves are ruffled as the end of the skirt is, and it has an embroidered flower pattern running up the center of it. She brings it over to the couch, sizing Jon up for a second. 

“I mean, you’ll _probably_ fit?” she shrugs, handing Jon the blouse. “God knows you’re small, for a man.”

“Thanks,” Jon replies sarcastically. 

As it turns out, the blouse does fit, and what's more, Jon quite likes how he looks in it. Moreso than the skirt, even. He looks in the full view mirror once he’s pulled the skirt on as well, and finds him smiling back at himself in the reflection. 

“Daisy,” Jon asks. 

“Yeah?”

“Could you, uhm,” Jon swallows, his eyes still on the way the blouse falls over his shoulders. “Would you braid my hair?” 

Jon sits on the bed while Daisy goes for a casual over-the-shoulder single braid. She weaves dark curls with the grey that streaks his hair, her hands moving in practiced motions. 

“This was my go-to style for a bit,” Daisy speaks through the hair tie between her teeth as she’s finishing the end of the braid. “Then I learned it was much easier to just throw it in a ponytail.” 

“I’ve never really done anything with my hair,” Jon says.

“Well, you’ve certainly got a lot more of it than most guys do,” she remarks as she ties the end with the elastic. “Not a bad thing, though. There.” She pulls away, admiring her work.

“How’s it look?” Jon touches the braid lightly. 

“Well, damn,” Daisy says, grinning. 

“What?” Jon asks, a nervous smile on his face. Daisy simply moves him back over to the mirror and lets him see for himself.

“Oh,” is all Jon says. He isn’t someone who usually gives a lot of thought to his appearance, what is most comfortable is what he’ll throw on, and in his adult life, he’s owned probably a total of three pairs of pants. But looking at his reflection now, he finds himself wondering why he didn’t try branching out into caring about how he looked sooner.

The braid is neat on his shoulder, his usually unruly locks appear so much nicer like this, despite it being the same grey-streaked hair he’s always disliked. The blouse is airy and tucked into the skirt at the waist, which still flows so nicely around his ankles.

It’s stupid, to be taking pleasure in things like this when there are such important things at hand, but the way he sees himself smile in the mirror now, he doesn't remember the last time he felt so… overwhelming alright.

Jon turns around to face Daisy, who is still admiring every part of him, pleasant surprise on her face.

“I’d say you make a prettier woman than I do,” she says, offhandedly. 

Jon laughs, and then pretends he doesn’t think about the comment every day for the next week. 

* * *

It finally spills over one night over dinner. Jon’s ordered from this Vietnamese place they both like to splurge on occasionally, because today was shit and they both deserve a break. 

“I’ve sort of been thinking,” Jon starts as he swallows a bite of his rice. 

“When aren’t you,” Daisy quips back automatically.

“No, I mean like…” Jon trails off, pokes at meat on his plate. “Uhm, What would you say if I said I might like to try different pronouns?” It comes out more unsure than he had planned on sounding.

“Hm?” Daisy looks up. “What do you mean?”

“Like, if I asked you to use, ah, ‘she’ to refer to me,” Jon elaborates. 

“Whoa,” is all Daisy says in reply. 

There’s a second of silence that seems to last forever.

“Uh, I mean, sure,” Daisy finally says, a bit hesitant, trying to find the words. “Is that what you feel?” 

“I… I think so?” Jon says. “I’m still working through things, but. When I looked in the mirror when I had the whole outfit on, I think something… clicked for me? It felt… nice. And I haven’t been able to feel nice recently.”

“Yeah,” Daisy snorts, taking a sip of her soda. “Yeah, I definitely get that.”

“You’re okay with it though?” Jon asks. 

“Sims,” Daisy says with such conviction that it makes Jon meet her gaze despite having avoided it all conversation. “First of all, what I think doesn’t really matter-- It’s your life. You make that call, okay?” 

Jon nods, “Right. Yeah, I know.” 

“Secondly, do you still want to be called Jon?” Daisy asks through half a mouthful of noodles. 

“I think so, yeah.” 

“Roger Wilco.” Daisy replies. “You going to finish that summer roll?” 

* * *

Daisy does a fair bit of thinking over the next few days. She thinks about her current situation, how she’s found herself living with Jon, who she was planning on killing on more than one occasion, and now can’t imagine not having around. 

She thinks about how she’s hungry all the time, and how quick she was to protect Jon from those hunters that found them a few days ago, how scared she’d been that she would lose herself in an attempt to keep someone safe. 

Despite the end of the world probably being something that’s definitely in motion, Daisy can’t stop thinking about how she has never dated a woman before. She thinks about that one a lot. 

Well, enough that she brings it up to Jon one day as they’re getting ready for bed. They’ve fallen into something so domestic recently it’d almost be embarrassing if it weren’t the only thing even slightly normal left about their lives. 

“I don’t know if that’s what I would call myself,” Jon says, tugging her hair into a ponytail. “Probably would have to shave the mustache before I was allowed to call myself a woman,” she snorts.

“Who says?” Daisy replies, matter of fact. “You’re… feminine though, right? Would you use that word?” she continues.

Jon shrugs. “I suppose so, yes.” 

Daisy nods. “Yeah, it’s just… I think I’m attracted to women?” 

“Oh,” Jon says. “Cheers.” 

Daisy slaps her on the arm. “You’re a twat. Here I am, turning this over in my mind for god knows how long and that’s your answer?” she smiles despite her accusatory tone. 

“I mean, it’s really alright.” Jon sits close to her. “I’m into men.” 

“Oh.”

“Yeah.” 

“Cheers,” Daisy mimics. She settles against Jon’s chest as she laughs. They lay like that for a bit, Daisy tuning out every sound but the beating of Jon’s heart, trying to let it be the only thing she thinks about, but her thoughts drift away from her as they usually do nowadays. 

“Jon,” Daisy says after a while. 

“Yeah, still here.” 

Daisy sighs, tries to make her voice take a more hopeful tone than what she currently feels. “Thank you, for this. For being there. I know I’m not really worth all this but…” she closes her eyes against Jon’s warm chest. “Whatever’s going on… make sure you make it out of it, okay?” hating how unsure she sounds, she adds, “or I’ll have to kill you myself.” 

Jon laughs, and the feeling reverberates in Daisy’s head. “Yeah. You too, Daisy.” 

Jon reaches a hand out, and Daisy takes it, presses it to her lips, keeps it there as she forces herself to listen to the quiet, and get some sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you to zelda and chris for the encouragement <3
> 
> title from 'ironworks' by baths
> 
> comments are appreciated! <3


End file.
